Melancholy Holidays

I could write a small novel on this most recent holiday, but I don't want you fine people to think I have nothing better to do than sit in front of a computer all day long (Nay, it is the television that is my glowing comfort). So, here are my Christmas highlights -- bullet point style.

-- Lunch with Jasmyne -- lovely and thoughtful friend.

-- Documenting the creation of the Deines' first snow-penguin (see picture) while Brian enlightened Eileen on the subject of yellow snow.

-- Breaking down Mac's pool table (yes, it's the end of an era) and transferring it to Mike's developing bachelor pad.

-- Finding a way to get Andrew into the Cousin's picture (and he looked better than all of us).

-- Giving Uncle Joel his Thanksgiving picture.

-- Not crying, no matter how many times I had to hide in the bathroom.

-- 24 vol. 4, and Scrubs Vol. 2. Of course I had to mention some presents. It's Christmas.

-- Playing hopscotch with Eileen. I think she was crushing on me a little.

-- Using my brief time on the phone with Andrew to talk about the potential Mark Prior trade. Also, finally being able to ask him how he was, and hearing his response.

-- Being the first out at the Deines poker game, then coming back like a champ at the Rockwells on Christmas Day. Constantly raking.

-- Finding new and imaginative ways of blaming my Uncle Danny for my being laid off.

-- Bears v. Packers on Christmas Day. Beautiful win.

-- Having a five and six-way conversation on religion and politics with Norm, Dee, and their girls.

-- Learning that the best way to prevent religiosity in your children is to send them to Catholic school.

-- Finding out how much I can sweat standing still when Norm badgered me about my opinion of his daughters (for the record, yes, your girls are gorgeous, Norm. But I've also seen them in diapers, so it takes a minor adjustment to realize one of them is old enough to drink.)

-- Two families (Rockwells and Andersons crammed behind my recliner as I attempt to take our picture with the camera facing me. I would love to post that picture, unfortunately I ended up looking like Uncle Fester strapped to an electric chair. And after my admission in the previous bullet point, can you honestly expect me to volunteer such a horrifying representation of myself? If I had that little pride I would have kept the White Trash Stache (is it wrong that I kind of miss it?)

Of course all of these highlights are simply my effort to find something good in the first Christmas where I sat alone on my parents' couch to open presents. There was no stocking of silly Happy Meal toys. No evenly distributed presents. No snarky ribbing of mom and her militaristic Christmas tree ettiquette. We burned through that experience as fast as we could, as if the faster we went the less we would notice Andrew's absence. Needless to say, it didn't work.

Andrew, I miss you. If the amount of misdirected anger around here is any indication, I miss you a lot. But I'm proud of you and I admire your courage. Stay smart and come home safe so you and I can once again sit on the couch and give mom some shit; she needs it.

Merry Christmas, Baby Bro. And here's to a speedy 2006.